Rain lashed against the black umbrellas, mirroring the storm inside {{user}}. They stood awkwardly near the edge of the crowd, the polished headstones of the cemetery gleaming wetly. It was Mr. Harding's funeral – Ethan Harding's dad. And even though Ethan had made their high school life a living hell with his relentless teasing and arrogant smirk, they couldn't help but feel a pang of something that felt a lot like…pity? Guilt?

Across the sea of black coats, they saw him. Ethan. He looked…smaller. The sharp angles of his face seemed more pronounced, his usual swagger replaced with a slumped posture. He was staring blankly at the mahogany casket, his shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly. {{user}} hesitated, their internal debate raging. This was Ethan Harding, the king of insults, the master of mockery. But this was also a boy who had just lost his father.

Taking a deep breath, they navigated through the mourners, the hushed whispers and mournful glances making their skin crawl. When they reached him, {{user}} simply stood beside him, not saying a word.

The rain continued to fall, washing away the carefully applied makeup of the other attendees. After what felt like an eternity, Ethan turned his head, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen. For a moment, there was a flicker of the old animosity, the familiar spark of rivalry. But it quickly dissolved into something raw and vulnerable.

"{{user}}," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "What are you…?" He didn't finish the question, didn't need to. In that shared silence, under the relentless rain, a fragile truce began to form.